Revenge in Lingual Form
by QueenofBookworms
Summary: Snake might've studied Latin before, but he doesn't know a thing about love poets or idiot-pompous-stick-up-his-arse boy spies. Third in Revenges series, sequel to Chemical Form.


Revenge in Lingual Form

Snake's eyes narrowed as he entered the classroom, his eyes insantly focusing on the ('annoying, irritatitng [cut out due to censorship] bastard of a Cub') boy sitting opposite the door, chatting amiably to friends as their teacher struggled with the projector.

"Right, that's it. I give up," declared said teacher, spinning around and giving one final glare to the projector, as though that would fix everything.

Ironically, it did. Said projector whirred to life, and the blue start-up screen appeared on the whiteboard. The teacher, gaping, numbly pulled down the projector screen, and watched as the PowerPoint he'd been meaning to show the students appeared.

"Poem Four," he said, once he'd silenced the laughing students, "by Catullus. This poem carries on from the poem we looked at last lesson. Now, what—Oh. Hello," he added, finally noticing the SAS soldier who'd been capturing the students' fickle attention.

Snake nodded once, before his eyes drifted over to the set of windows on the one wall, grumpily noticing that the sports' fields were clearly visible.

"What's your name?"

Internally, Snake damned the man to Brecon Beacons. "Snake."

"Oh. Codename, eh?"

"No, my parents just decided to name me 'Snake'," drawled Snake in reply. When the teacher stared at him in shock, Snake snarled, "No, you dunderhead, it _is_ my codename."

"Oh…So no one's called 007 or anything, eh?" The guy tried to grin.

"I'm SAS, not MI6."

"Oh. Anyway. Class. You need to have a go at translating this. Just a messy translation, you know."

The class, grumbling slightly, opened red booklets, and exercise books, and started to work. Soon enough, the silence was replaced by chattering, many students openly disregarding their work and focusing on their no-doubt all-important conversations.

"For a class so worried about their exam last lesson, you sure don't seem worried now," remarked the teacher, loudly.

There was silence.

"Right. Work. Exam next week. Got that," Alex remarked, turning back to his booklet. "What does _iucundum_ mean?"

"It's in the vocab at the end of the poem," the teacher replied. "Pleasing." He rolled his eyes, and then left, muttering about a booklet and lost booklets.

"Oh…Right."

Five more minutes passed, Snake effectively ignoring the curious glances he got. Then, Alex and a boy next to him started snickering. A girl on Alex's other side rolled her eyes at them, and the three started discussing something of great importance all the time glancing at Snake.

"What is it!" Snake exploded when the three students laughed.

"Er...Well….Nothing," said the boy, stammering. Alex muttered something under his breath that was along the lines of 'head-desk'.

Snake snarled. "There was _something_."

"You should have been codenamed Lion," muttered Alex. "You snarl and grumble and all that."

"Whatever, boy. What were you lot talking about?"

"Harry Potter."

Groans arose from all corners of the class, apparently due to exaspertion. Snake decided to ignore this.

"And this warranted glancing at me?"

"Do you have eyes in the back of your head?" asked the girl, wide-eyed.

"Yes. Requirement of the SAS troops."

"Oh. Well, we were discussing which HP character you should be."

Now the class was laughing.

"Death Eater!" yelled one student.

"No! Auror!"

"DE!"

"A!"

"DE!"

"I said he should be a Death Eater," said Alex, voice rising over everyone else.

"Which one, though?" murmured the girl next to him.

"Lucius Malfoy!"

"Not refined enough."

"Scrimgeour!"

"The day a SAS guy ends up Prime Minister is the day the world goes insane."

"The world's already insane."

"You know what I mean," Alex grumbled.

There was silence again.

"Macnair?"

"Who?"

"The executioner, you know. The guy who almost killed Buckbeak."

There was laughter, and a resounding chorus of 'Yes!'.

"Do I have any say in this?"

"Nope!" declared the girl cheerfully. "Now…Snape…Who should be Snape?"

"I would hope that it is not me," drawled the teacher, returning. "And I see you've managed to terrorise our SAS soldier. Now, we'lll take a look at Poem, oh, for God's sake, Max, put down that ruler and don't hit Sarah. As I was saying - Yes, Anju," he spoke to the girl next to Alex, who had a far-too-innocent face for Snake's comfort, "I know you had problems with the Latin in the last poem, you emailed me. You want more help?" The teacher sighed, exasperated. "Look, I need to do the next poem... Oh? That's a good idea... Snake? Have you done any Latin, particularly poets such as Catullus?"

"No…Catullus, eh? A war poet? Nah…"

"Actually, he's a love poet." The class snickered.

"Right. Never heard of him."

"Obviously."

"I thought Roman poets were meant to be all about war," added Snake suspiciously.

"Yeah, but all the tough guys have a soft side." Alex paused, and then grinned. "What about you? What's your soft side like?"

"I don't have a soft side."

"Yes you do."

"No."

"Yes."

"Boys!" yelled the teacher, who had had to discuss something with another teacher at the door. Snake snarled, not liking being linked to being a '_boy'_. "Now, Snake, I assume you've studied Latin before, so would you mind helping with the students while I help with the projector in the other classroom?"

"No."

"Please? I need the help."

"I'm here to protect you guys from terrorists. Not help teach Latin."

There was silence. "Please?" begged the teacher.

Snake crumpled. "Fine." The teacher left again.

"SOFT SIDE!" Alex promptly cackled.

"WHAT?" yelled Snake, spinning to glare at the boy.

"Soft side," Alex repeated, grinning.

"Whatever boy."

"So…what does the first line mean?" asked Alex, finally.

"It means," Snake muttered, glancing at the book. "Er, um, oh... _no woman can truly say that they have been loved as much as my Lesbia has been loved by me._"

"Whoa," murmured the girl next to Alex, Anju. "That was fast."

"He looked at the computer," Alex said, matter-of-factly.

"You weren't meant to give me away," Snake replied. The class frowned, as one, and crossed their arms over their chests.

"You are one very in-sync class," muttered Snake. He was going insane, he knew it.

"But the poem was so sweet!" a girl swooned, smiling dreamily.

"No, it really isn't," mumbled Alex, frowning at her.

"Oh is wittle Alex jealous?" a boy teased. Alex flushed, and glared at him.

Everyone laughed, and Alex, glaring at them, turned to Snake, glare intensifying as he noticed Snake snickering.

"Oh, ha, ha. But, Snake," Alex's tone was sweet, unpleasantly-this-is-going-to-hurt-you-my-enemy sweet. Snake was worried now, "I would've translated it as _it is a pleasing love you propose to me, my life_. Especially since we're doing Poem Four, not Three."

There was silence. "You got _burned_," drawled one boy.

Snake, growling, lunged at Alex-the-irritating-pompous-stick-up-his-arse Kid Spy, and would've killed him…

Had the bell not blasted through the room. And the kids were yelling, Snake finally noticed. There were witnesses.

Alex dashed away with the rest of the class.

"Irritating, pompous, stick-up-his-arse boy!"

"That was quick," the teacher commented, entering again. "One hell of a quick lesson...Oh, hi Snake, again. Were they well-behaved? I know I wasn't here much, but I'm sure that aurau of yours, the Don't-Touch-Me, should've kept them at bay..." His voice fell away, as he hummed to himself whilst packing his belongings up.

Snake snarled. He was going to end up like that teacher, he knew it.

But first, he had to warn Wolf.

**A/N: The italic lines are actually the translations of Catullus's love poems. Yes, the guy's real. I just studied a bunch of his poems. They're kinda sweet, kinda, WHY-THE-HELL-DO-YOU-STILL-LOVE-THIS-WOMAN-WHEN-SHE-OBVIOUSLY-DOES-NOT-LOVE-YOU?!?!? Erm, yeah. **

**Thank you to every awesome person who reviewed! I LOVE YOU GUYS TO BITS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *hands free brownies to all who reviewed***

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